This Is How The World Ends
by Anticleides
Summary: Gareth 'Gaz' Riley is alive...though he wished he died on that godforsaken bridge. Stuck in a Russian torture camp he prays for death. Little does he know that he may be the only person able to save his brother Simon Riley and the men of TF 141. R&R ***
1. Forgotten

" Forgotten "

Day 1 - 11:28:08

CSgt Gareth 'Gaz' Riley (KIA)

22nd SAS Regiment

Soviet Internment Facility, Siberia

_Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…I will fear no evil_

Colour Sergeant Gareth Riley no longer felt anything anymore…no self pity for his tortured existence.

No hope for freedom longer remained in his head, hours spent lying broken on the cold floor of his cell after torture sessions had killed those thoughts.

No pain for his wounds and broken body, as he had grown used to this hell he was cast in.

They had even taken away his anger, his rage which had for the longest time been the only barrier between the angels of death that constantly circled him.

The only thing that still flowed freely from his body was his blood…of that there was no shortage.

His last memories of the outside world were among his worst.

Lying broken and battered on a bridge his friends dying around him, as he struggled to get to his feet.

Hearing the shots but not really believing them as the yank marine Griggs fired his last shot before getting killed by Imran Zakhaev's thugs.

Then watching the footsteps approach him…looking up into the face of evil itself as Zakhaev turned his pistol on him and blew the backside of his head out onto the cracked asphalt below.

Obviously he had not done a good enough job as Gaz had lived, though he wished he would have died there on that godforsaken bridge.

He was blind in his left eye and scar tissue covered the left side of his face and head, the bullet had also knocked a small chunk out of his left frontal lobe before passing out of the left backside of his head.

Meaning Gaz had struggle with the dexterity of his right hand and arm, and his food, though he rarely got any tasted a many different array of flavors than they really were.

Not always a bad thing considering the shit they served, it was nice to taste Mac N Cheese instead of boiled cabbage soup with bugs in it.

The Loyalist's patched him up with outdated medical equipment and forced some retired Neurologist to try to fix his brain damage, but to no avail.

It was no bother, for the hours he had sat in his cell while not unconscious, trying keep up movement of his right arm, and hand gaining still diminished yet greater dexterity.

But as the untrustworthy bastards the Loyalist's were, they sold him to some Russian organization located in Serbia, and here he was.

Gaz lifted his head as the sound of footsteps passed by the iron door of his cell.

They paused speaking in Russian then continued a few feet over to the cell next to his.

The door screeched open and the frantic shuffle of feet as they struggled to detain the convict in the other cell.

"Nein Nein!" screams from the prisoner echoed as he was dragged away.

Gaz slumped down again and returned to his thoughts.

As far as he could tell he was in some old world war two science facility that the Russians used to torture and experiment on captured Nazi soldiers and other unfortunate victims to fall foot in this hell.

But besides the vicious instruments of pain, and the beatings he received, his tormenters asking questions he didn't know the answer too and everything else that went on in this place seemed pointless.

It had been a day three hours and twenty seven minutes since his last session.

In all this hell he had still retained the ability of time, his greatest ally and foe, for every day he was reminded of his everlasting detainment.

It had been four years since last walked a free man.

Now he spent time wishing for death that would never come…at least not soon enough.

Gaz tried to get comfortable on the freezing floor that numbed his bones, he would be lying if he said they didn't break him.

Multiple times, he begged for them to stop, bled, screamed, and cried as they cut, beat, and burned the flesh on his bones.

Pride…what pride, they beat the shit outta him till he pissed himself and was left writhing on the floor of his cell, tears long since dried up.

As his vision wavered and the tell tale signs of sleep sprung forward Gaz wondered if Price and Soap survived…and if anyone even remembered Gareth Riley.

He let blissful sleep take him away from his own personnel hell…and into another.

_Gaz steps out of the taxi wearing his royal army uniform. Now complete with a special air service beret and patch._

_Trying to straighten out his uniform as he walks up the steps…about to open the door when he notices his fathers truck parked halfway up into the yard._

_Screams echo from inside the house, his mothers…then a deeper voice, his dads._

_He opens the door to see his father choking out his brother in the kitchen while his mom lay bleeding on the floor._

_Running to stop him he grabs his father and throws him to the ground._

_Everything is quiet except for his brother gasping for air and his mother whimpering._

_His father looks up at him his eyes are bloodshot…drunk again.._

"_If it isn't my other worthless son" his father says slurring his words._

"_Get out" Gaz motions to the door._

"_Ill get out of my house when I damn well please" His father struggles to his feet and tries to throw a drunken punch at him._

_Dodging it easily he ignores the urge to break his femur with a well placed kick and instead grabs him and throws him out the door._

_His brother, breath restored starts kicking him on the ground._

"_Easy Simon" Gaz grabs his brother and pulls him back inside leaving his father sputtering on the sidewalk._

_Shutting the door he walks over and helps his mom up "You okay mum"_

"_Fine honey fine" She gets up trying to conceal a black eye._

"_You go see your brothers Ill put the kettle on"_

_Walking up the stairs to his brothers room he opens the door to see it in its usual clean arrangement, with the only thing not neat his brother holding a t shirt to a bleeding nose._

"_Hey Gareth" his brother stood up to greet him._

_Three years younger than him his brother Simon Riley looked surprisingly similar to Gareth._

_When they were younger he sounded surprisingly enough like Gareth and even intercepted the phone calls from his girlfriend, and usually managed to get five minutes in before Gareth caught him and had to beat the snot out of him._

"_Hey Simon how you doing?" he sat down on his bed_

"_Well between getting in fights at school and dad coming home and beating the shit out of mom every other night…great how about you bro" Simon tossed the t shirt into a wastebasket._

"_Where's Tommy" He asks_

"_Probably doing some drugs with the crack heads down the lot" _

"_When did this start?" Gaz asks_

"_When didn't it…you've been gone quiet a long time, living my dream to I see" Simon gestures to the special air service patch on his shoulder._

"_You'll get your chance Simon" Gaz pats him on the back_

"_Yeah maybe I wont, I cant think of leaving mum here to get the shit kicked out of her by that animal" his brother wrings his hands._

"_You have to think about yourself"_

"_Like you did…leaving us to fend for ourselves"_

"_Simon its not like that" _

_His brother hangs his head "sorry, I'm just a little stressed" _

"_I'm gonna go check on mum okay?" He goes for the door._

"_Hey Gaz" his brother says using his old childhood nickname_

"_Yeah"_

"_Wake up"_

_Gaz turns "what did you say?"_

"_Just wake up"_

Gaz opens his eyes to the cold dark of his cell, tears fell from his face as he struggled to wipe them away with his right arm.

Footsteps pass his cell and return the prisoner they took earlier to his cell, his sobs echo out into the compound.

And for the first time in his miserable existence Gareth 'Gaz' Riley, Colour Sergeant of the Special Air Service of the Royal Army realizes that he is truly _"Forgotten"._

**Authors Note - I have been reading the stories from this website for a while, finding most quite interesting and the authors artfully talented, and have finally worked up the "nerve" I guess you might say to create a membership and put myself and my thoughts an idea's out there.**

**Being an avid game head, I can slightly embarrassingly say I have spent more than a few days inside following the fictional life's of others when I should have been doing something rather productive. So I figured COD was the perfect place to start my first work in progress.**

**Noticing the community obsession with McTavish, Price, Roach, and most notably Simon 'Ghost' Riley I planned on incorporating all of them into my first FanFic. However that sounded incredibly normal and bland compared to the incredibly creative works that populate the COD Story forum.**

**After Spending another beautiful sunny day inside wondering what to write and playing Modern Warfare One, I realized that most of the population had forgotten a great character…Gaz. Who as a rather large group of COD followers believed that Gaz was really Ghost. When actually he was just voiced by the same voice actor Craig Fairbrass.**

**So I have tried here to blend realism in with miracles as I try to tie Gaz in with Ghost's history due to their similarities. I have tweaked a bit of their histories to suit the purpose of the story. Hope that doesn't ruffle your feathers too much. It might have a slow beginning but please don't let that stop you from reading as I try to bring a "Ghost" back from the dead.**

**And if you have read this far…hello and greetings to all of you great authors, I hope to read more of your works soon. Hope I don't come off as to optimistic and jolly for the lot of you. **

**- Anticleides**


	2. Deal With The Devil

" Deal With The Devil "

Day 2 - 06:23:56

CSgt Gareth 'Gaz' Riley (KIA)

22nd SAS Regiment

Soviet Internment Facility, Siberia

He wasn't worried when the door to his cell opened…he was long past being scared. However he wasn't past being surprised.

Gaz was certainly surprised when the door was swung open fully and three individuals walked toward him wearing special forces combat gear and civilian cold weather clothing.

"Colour Sergeant Gareth Riley of the SAS, informally known as Gaz or Bravo Five" the man who Gaz assumed was the leader spoke with a slight Russian accent.

"Anatoly guard the door, Svetlana look him over" One of them walked outside and swung the cell door shut.

The other a woman walked forward and knelt beside Gaz, producing a metal instrument.

Gaz recoiled instinctively from her but she placed a hand on him "Do not worry, it is only a stethoscope"

Removing her goggles and face mask to reveal delicate facial features and the first caring eyes Gaz had seen in what seemed like forever.

Lifting up the tattered rags he called clothes she examined his physical state, dark blue eyes shifting from laceration to burn, to bruise, to scar.

"He is severely malnourished, appears to have several broken then improperly reset bones, Multiple lacerations, burns, and bruises too" She placed the stethoscope on his chest and waited several seconds while Gaz breathed.

"His heart rate is slower than average" She turned her attention to his face.

"Blind in left eye, vision normal in right" Her fingers traced the scar tissue across his face and scalp.

"Is this a gunshot wound? She felt heavy scar tissue on the back of his head. "He might be suffering from sever brain damage"

She stopped examining him and looked in his eyes. " Are you?"

"I have trouble moving certain delicate motions in my right arm" Gaz told her.

"Can you fight?" The lead Russian asked.

"Who the hell are you?" Gaz looked the man over.

The man took off his ski mask and knelt down producing a pistol, which he shoved under Gaz's chin.

"Do it, you'd be doing me a favor" Gaz smiled at the man, noticing also he had one blue and one green eye.

"Very well, I am Vladimir Makarov leader of the Russian ultranationalist terrorist cell, Prodigy of the great Imran Zakhaev, and I can be your savior or your murderer" Makarov holstered his pistol.

"Why do you need me?' Gaz accepted Makarov's hand and got to his feet.

"You know of Imran Zakhaev?"

"Yeah I know him, he's the one who made me so damn pretty"

Makarov's face twisted in anger then he regained composure "You served with Price and his men on several missions to destroy his organization"

Gaz nodded "But you might as well kill me right now if your asking me to help you kill on of my best friends"

"Price is dead, but I need your help in other matters" Makarov handed him a manila dossier.

"Why should I trust a terrorist, and above all someone who worked for Zakhaev" Gaz thumbed through the dossier to catching sight of a an American General named Shepherd, and members of a task force called "one four one".

"Because, I can save you from this hell your stuck in, and this will sound cliché but when its over you will walk a free man" Makarov pulled some clothes out of a backpack and offered them to him.

"Fine, but on one condition…I wont kill any Yanks, Brits, or civilians for you"

Makarov smirked "done"

Gaz grabbed the clothes and began to change when Makarov grabbed a pistol and several clips out of the backpack and handed them to Gaz.

"What's this for?' Gaz held the pistol, a Colt 1911 forty five caliber handgun.

"Well I was planning on killing the sick sons a bitches who ran this place…but if you don't want to" Makarov smiled

Gaz turned to face Makarov and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like shaking the hand of a terrorist.

" Devils Advocate "

Day 2 - 08:12:32

Vladimir Makarov

Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

Soviet Internment Facility, Siberia

_There are only two kinds of people in this world Vladimir, Allies and Adversaries…no friends._

Imran Zakhaev's words echoed in his ears as Makarov watched the SAS operative wreak a path of death and destruction throughout the facility.

_Only tell them what they need to know, no more, no less_

And Makarov had done just that, he had given the man enough reason to help him but not so much as to turn him against Makarov.

Makarov was sure the man was smart enough to know that when it was over he would probably be killed.

But as Makarov watched Gareth Riley executed a trembling Russian scientist blowing his brains out onto the floor his eyes filled with rage and bloodlust, Makarov actually considered letting the man live.

Gaz reached into his pockets and grabbed another clip, slamming it home into his pistol.

Moving his gaze over to another scientist whimpering under a table he grabbed the man with his good arm using the other to shove the pistol in his mouth.

"I know you…do you remember me" Gaz smiled

The man screamed something incoherently tears and spit falling to the floor.

"Of course you do, power drills, scalpels, hot irons…laughing while I begged pleaded for mercy" He threw the man to the ground.

The scientist babbled something in Russian and Gaz turned to Makarov "What is he saying"

Makarov smirked turning to the scientists who was growing hysterical "he says he is sorry, he was forced to do it"

"Bullshit!" Gaz pulled the trigger shooting the scientist in the knee.

Blood stained his trousers as the man cried and tried to get up, only to be kicked down by Gaz.

"He says he doesn't want to die" Makarov translated

"Well I did" Gaz put another round into the mans remaining knee

Now smiling spewing spittle out of his mouth the man began to scream.

"He says he curses you, and no matter how far you run, no matter what hell you go to, may you never find peace"

Gaz stood there silent, he imagined this moment so many times in his head but now it seemed…different.

Makarov watched this spectacle a grin on his face.

"May you find peace in whatever hell accepts you" Gaz pushed the barrel of the pistol into the scientist's forehead, pausing for a moment he fired spattering himself with the other mans blood.

Anatoly smoked a cigar in the corner while Svetlana's eyes were glued to the dead man.

They had massacred the entire facility, the scientist, the guards, and when they ran into the inmates suffering and unable to continue…they even provided the coup de grace ending their suffering.

Gaz had laid eyes on experimentation, and torture devices he had never imagined, all this time he thought he was in hell, many were far worse off.

They destroyed their machines of death and their meticulous notes they had created.

Gaz had discovered that they were a old world war two science detachment created to help turn captured Nazi's and Russian criminals into brainwashed soldiers for the red army.

Loving their work so much they continued on after the war ended.

Makarov motioned for Anatoly to take Svetlana to the chopper, walking over next to Gaz he put a hand on his shoulder. "It feels good doesn't it, killing the men who have wronged you"

"Get your hand off me Makarov, this is just business you and me"

Makarov removed his hand "of course Mr. Riley…just business"

His whole time spent in this hell had finally reached its ultimatum and he had killed all of the bastards who caused him to suffer the past four years, and when he should have been jubilant, he was sad. Though he couldn't understand why.

Rage spent, and adrenaline no longer coursing through his veins, Gaz fell to his knees, his wounds pressing in on him.

Letting Makarov help him to the chopper, he felt the icy grip of the Siberian wasteland even after he took a seat aboard their Sikorsky chopper, and pressed his face against the glass.

Watching as they flew away he was happy, and sad, and even though he was free, he had a sinking feeling he was escaping from one hell into another.

**Authors Note - Personally I would have tried to make another chapter about Gaz in confinement, but I fell as I would lose the few readers I have.**

**I attempted to make the prison break seem reasonably realistic. Only one man would have the contacts and assets available to locate a confined SAS operative, and have the will to go and get him. Well Makarov fit the bill, and the fact that he would use Gaz for personal gain then deceive him fits his MO quite nicely.**

**After this chapter I am experiencing difficulty on how to write the next. I'm sure I will figure it out sooner or later**

**Reviews are always helpful, and my thanks to Liontalon and TarTaricing, glad your reading.**

**Suggestions are always welcome.**

**- Anticleides**


	3. The Family Ghost

" The Family Ghost "

Day 3 - 14:32:12

CSgt Gareth 'Gaz' Riley (KIA)

22nd SAS Regiment

Georgian-Russian Border

"What do you mean they are better than us"

"Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby, look at your track record mate" Gaz was trying unsuccessfully to explain four man strike team tactics to the group of Russians in front of him.

He didn't like working for a terrorist organization, but he took solace in the fact that the men he was trying to teach were mostly poor formers or regular Russians who were just trying to feed their families.

The professional killers, the ex Spetsnaz and like kept to themselves regarding the British operator as more of a nuisance than an dangerous killer. Gaz had spent the last few weeks in Makarov's safe house on the Georgian Russian border.

Makarov had hospital equipment trucked in, and he brought everything but the kitchen sink. With the doctor Gaz knew as Svetlana monitoring his recovery he spent his first week in a drug induced coma, in a hidden basement tucked away under the armory.

All his minor bone breaks had been reset properly and his large gashes had been stitched up. The woman was a miracle worker, he spent the next two weeks under medical supervision, performing the doctors physical therapy instructions and resting, all the while taking nutrients and minerals to boost his recovery.

Gaz had regained most of the use in his right arm and hand, yet was not yet up to his old professional standards. There was no way he could match his record time in the shoot house like before. He had performed his own physical therapy when he was free, doing calisthenics and cardio. Gaz smiled when he emerged covered in sweat after running just two miles, back when he was in the Special Air Service he was running five and ten, and humping twenty with a sixty pound rucksack.

He was up to fifty pushups half of his original hundred, and unfortunately he was not permitted to do sit-ups do to a rib that had to been reset when it healed improperly.

Haircut, a fresh shave, and new clothes made Gaz feel way better than he knew he looked.

In between workout Makarov visited him, asking him answers to questions about special tactics and weapons.

"_What does it do?"_

"_Just what I said, it's a new assault rifle platform…it kills people"_

"_Your trying my patience English"_

Gaz answered his questions exactly as he asked them, no more, no less.

"_one four one, is probably using ex SAS and SEAL's…wouldn't be surprised to see a few Force Recon blokes, or even Green Beret's."_

"_We know, I want to know about their tactics"_

"_have you tried Google"_

"_Mr. Riley, do you remember our deal"_

"_Do I look like a Yank mate?'_

Makarov had given up trying to pry about Captain Price and Gaz's days before he had gotten shot.

It wasn't as if Gaz had given him complete shit, he had given him plenty of useful viable information. Problem was is that Makarov already knew most of the information he was receiving. Makarov had left a few days ago without warning, he said he had business to take care of and took most of his professional killers with him. He left Gaz with orders to help train new guns, and when he got back he better have information Makarov could use or he would catch a bullet in the only eye he had left.

Gaz only smiled and told him he would miss him then blew him a kiss, which only caused Makarov to leave fuming. He still fully expected to be stabbed in the back sooner or later but for now he was just happy to not being tortured every other day.

Now Gaz was trying to give the fng's a few useful tips that he felt would at least allow them to run away safely in combat "Your SAS training is nothing compared to what the Spetsnaz go through" A Russian smoking a cigar in the corner spoke with a deep accent.

"Maybe so Ivan, but I've killed plenty of your boys to know that beating your trainees with a shovel is the wrong way to train soldiers" Gaz replied

"So your pitiful excuse for training makes you better than us, with your free thinking, and new age democracy?" The Russian stubbed his cigarette out onto the counter and walked over.

"If you mean freethinkers who wont blindly follow their leader into a death trap and refuse to retreat because they are stubborn and dumb then yes" Gaz held his ground as the Russian advanced toward him. "Its called honor and pride, you shameful excuse of a soldier" The Russian was now face to face with Gaz"

"No its called being a dumb ass, but then again" Gaz looked over the big Russian "the Red Army did always like them incredibly god damn stupid.

"I will make you regret your words Imperialist swine!" The Russian grabbed Gaz by the collar of his jacket and lifted him a few inches off the ground. The Russian was at least eight inches taller than Gaz's six foot two height, and definitely weighed at least sixty kilos more.

"You might want to reconsider that?" Gaz had un-holstered his Sig Saur P220 45. pistol he had tossed the one he had used at the torture camp in Siberia. He couldn't bare to handle it and acquired a new matte black Sig Saur from Makarov's armory and currently was pressing it in-between the Russians ribs.

He carried the pistol it every minute of the day ever since he gained consciousness, he didn't trust Makarov or any of his goons, not even the good doctor who always had that caring look in her eye. "We settle later" The Russian lowered him to the ground and retreated upstairs.

Gaz watched him leave holstering his pistol he walked downstairs to the armory and grabbed a G36C his all time favorite rifle, ear plugs and several magazines for his rifle and a few clips for his pistol.

Walking out the door he came face to face with the Svetlana "Where are you going?" She stopped in front of him. "To shoot a little bit" She crossed her arms "do you really think that's healthy in your condition" Gaz moved around her "Don't worry Doc, Ill be back in time to flex my muscles for you" He hopped over the porch railing and headed into the forest" its physical therapy you svolich!" she yelled after him.

He smiled glad he could get her flustered, usually she was an ice cube. He made his way up through a forest trail a mile or so away form the estate. Scrambling through thick underbrush he came to a small couple hundred yard clearing, there were small tin cans and soda cans evident of his previous shooting. In fact as he set up his makeshift range, he realized his shooting was the only thing that had been up to his former standards, with the exception of his deft movements he was just as accurate as before.

He brought a silencer because last time he practiced without one. Believe it or not a silencer slowed down a bullets velocity, meaning it made shooting at long ranges trickier.

Plugging in his earplugs and screwing on the silencer he began to plink away. He hit most of his targets excluding a few misses at the cans positioned at the four hundred yard line. He stayed on the rifle for about a half hour then switching to his pistol, last night he threaded the barrel to accept a silencer and screwed it on practicing fast movements and quick reloading he finished another half hour on his sidearm.

Saving a mag for his rifle and clip for his pistol he packed his stuff up, bending down to tie his shoe he took out his ear plugs and the sound of gunshots and explosions buffeted his ears. Turning around smoke was billowing up from the direction of the cabin. The sound of rotors blasted in his ears and Gaz turned to see American choppers heading southwest.

Slinging his range bag over his shoulder he sprinted as hard as he could in the helicopters direction. They sped ahead of him but he continued running as sweat soaked his clothes. Muscles straining he hopped a small ditch and fell rolling down a hill into tall grass just outside of a clearing.

A Chinhook troop carrier had landed and men fanned out towards the forest and started shooting. Little bird gunship's hovered overhead and let out a downpour of lead as their miniguns dumped their ammo into the forest. Realizing before he jumped up he was wearing Russian fatigues, Gaz began unbuttoning his jacket. The bullets stopped and over the rotor wash he could make out an British voice, and a American.

"Do you have the DSM!"

"Right here sir!"

"Excellent, that's another loose end"

Gaz threw his jacket down and lifted his head above the grass, to see two SF men hand over an object to an American officer.

The man produced a revolver and a shot rang out, one of the men dropped and the other turned in disbelief

"Roach!".

The man tried. to unholster his sidearm as he too was shot by the American.

Gaz crouched down realizing he just witnessed the murder of two British special forces members at the hand of an American officer.

Peeking above the grass he watched as the little birds peeled off and the men boarded the troop chopper. Two men remained as they dragged threw the bodies into a small shell crater, as they poured gasoline on the bodies. Stars could be made out on the officers uniform, as he lit a cigar. "General stars"

Taking a puff the man looked at the cigar as if he was pondering his decision. Grasping it between his forefingers, he flicked it onto the bodies and they lit aflame. The men boarded the chopper and the general turned waving for them to take off. The general boarded the chopper and watched the flames as the it lifted off and flew off into the sky.

The mans voice was nagging at Gaz, he had heard it before. He waited until the choppers were far enough away to burst into the clearing. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, a smell he had long since grown to hate. Throwing his jackets over the burning men he smothered the flames putting out the fire.

They both wore similar gear which was now singed and in some places burnt through. One wore a baklava, and the other wore a traditional tactical helmet. The man wearing the baklava suffered minor burns to his face, and the sunglasses he wore were partially melted to his faced over the ears, the baklava had burned through in a spot to blister a patch of skin on his cheek. The other who was wearing no facial protection and had the sleeves rolled up to his wrists, was badly burned on his face and hands. Both were bleeding profusely.

The voice nagged at him, he reached around the man with the skeleton baklava's neck and pulled out a pair of dog tags. The words made him go into shock…_Simon Riley_, checking his pulse it beat weakly. Snapping back into reality he dropped his rifle, and grabbed each man by the drag strap on their combat vests.

He half jogged backwards through the forest, his muscles screaming in agony as he pulled them up a hill.

_Simon Riley, my brother why would a Yank General kill him?_

Gaz dragged them up the steps, leaving them at the door. Clearing the estate with his pistol he caught sight of bodies, destroyed furniture, the smell of blood clung to the air. Stepping over the dead body of a SF soldier who had _scarecrow_ written on his helmet he lifted the grate at the bottom of the armory, only to come face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

"Doctor, its me" He watched her emerge carrying a Striker with a bandolier of shells slung over her shoulder.

"Gareth, your alive?" She looked at him suspiciously "How?" she held the shotgun at chest level.

"No time Doctor follow me" he went to walk out of the room but the barrel of the shotgun, wedged itself in-between his shoulder blades.

"No, your not going anywhere, I don't trust you" Her eyes narrowed.

"There's, two dying men out there, one of them is my brother, doctor…Svetlana, I need your help" slowly holstered his pistol and held his hands high. She lowered the shotgun the suspicion gone from her face now replaced with concern "ok"

He dragged his brother and the other man into the armory and down the stairs to the Intensive Care Unit, hospital equipment that had saved him. Svetlana worked fast checking their pulse and preparing equipment. Gaz helped her when he could but she just made him sit down.

Svetlana frowned looking at him with sadness "Both pulses are weak, I can operate on one first…the other probably will not make it"

His decision was already made, no matter what he would save his blood first. God bless the other man.

The doctor got to work injecting anti clotting agents and prepping for surgery, she worked at lightning speed, and was soon cutting into Simon Riley with a scalpel. Gaz watched impassibly, watching her work, and looking at the other man bleeding on the floor. Gary Sanderson was his name, he had pictures of his family and kids in his wallet. Yet he still chose his brother over him.

Svetlana muttered under her breath "Punctured lung, third degree burns, massive tissue damage, Jesus…"

Gaz watched her work concern etched in her face, she was too nice of a woman to be working with Makarov. Gaz wondered what would happen once he found out what happened.

Gaz leaned against the wall falling asleep, the last thing he remembered was her deep blue eyes looking over at him.

**Authors Note - It was hard making this chapter work, You can be the judge. Also I would like to now if you guys think Roach should live…I just don't know. Don't know either if there is gonna be any "slash" between Gaz and the good doctor. Any suggestions help.**

**Please read and review - Anticleides**


	4. Laid To Rest

" Laid To Rest "

Day 4 - 05:12:32:

CSgt Gareth 'Gaz' Riley (KIA)

22nd SAS Regiment

Georgian-Russian Border

_Lay me down, In the cold cold ground…where afore, many men have gone_

_When they come, Ill stand my ground…Stand my ground…Ill nay be afraid._

_Thoughts of heaven, back away my fear…sweat and blood, hide my veil of tears._

_Once a year, say a prayer for me, close your eyes…and remember me._

Gaz dreamt of pain, of suffering and sadness. He was a young man, attending the funeral of his father. SAS beret crushed in his hands he stood their with his mother and his younger brother Tommy, Simon was no were to be found. He knew how his father died…and why Simon wasn't there. He felt no sadness, just pain for what his mother was going through, even through the beatings and the drunk nights she still loved him. He was standing in the same spot years later, only instead of one casket it was two. His brother and mother were brutally murdered what the police could only identify as thugs His brother was listed as missing in action and the only other person attending the funeral was a priest. Still Gaz stood strong and laid them to rest with the rest of his family.

Opening his eyes to a slowly revolving ceiling fan Gaz wondered how he got from the armory to a bedroom. As the grogginess passed he remembered Svetlana helping his fatigued self up the stairs. Getting up he walked downstairs stepping over bodies and feet slipping on shell casings. Grabbing a intact pot of coffee of a table he poured it into a Styrofoam cup. The coffee was cold and bitter but gave him some renewed vigor. Gaz finished the cup and looked around the room. Bloated bodies of men a day old, spent casings and bullet holes riddled the floors and walls. Even a grenade lay beside his feet pin pulled out, a dud.

Kicking the grenade aside Gaz walked downstairs to the armory and down further stairs to the hidden hospital. Inside his brother lay on a hospital bed, bloody fatigues now replaced with a hospital gown. He was connected to every beeping machine in the room and looked like he was breathing steadily. He turned to see Svetlana lay curled up on the ammo box he had fallen asleep on previously. Gaz lifted her up and carried her out of the room. She was light even for her five foot six height. He walked into a bedroom across from the armory, setting her on a bullet ridden bed. She stirred but did not wake. Gaz turned and walked to the door stopping to look at her one more time. She had a simple beauty about her, she was quiet, but kindness always carried itself in her eyes.

Walking out of the room Gaz came face to face with the body of Gary Sanderson. The man wore a calm expression even through the burns and damage to his body. Gaz turned and headed outside to begin the tiresome task of burying the bodies.

He spent hours gathering the bodies of men dead and in pieces. He used an old tractor by the barn to dig shallow individual graves. He buried the Russian with no remorse only soldierly custom. Gaz took special care of the SF men with task force one four one stitched on their gear. Ozone, Scarecrow, Two ghillie clad snipers Toad and Archer…and Gary Sanderson. He laid them to rest gently sending them with a soldiers prayer. He placed a picture of the mans family on his chest and crossed his arms before using the tractor to bury Gary Sanderson. For some reason he felt responsible for the mans death, and in truth he was. Taking a long walk back to the house he tried to come to piece with his decision, but he never would. Walking downstairs he heard struggling "Get me out of this fucking bed!" Gaz ran down to see Svetlana trying to hold down his struggling brother. "

"Simon!" Gaz yelled over the commotion. The room fell quiet as his brother fell silent and the doctor stepped back. Stepping closer to the bed Gaz laid eyes on his brothers face, It was covered in scars and burns, but cold blue eyes stared defiantly back at him. "Gareth" His brother spoke in a hushed voice. "Yeah Simon, its me". "How?" Simon struggled to raise his hand. Gaz stopped him "Ill explain later, your hurt bad Simon, you need to be sedated, she's a friend". His brother nodded as Svetlana administered a sedative, but then turned to Gaz again "Roach?" he gasped. Gaz shook his head "Rest…all will be explained" Simon tried to keep awake but the sedative took effect and he fell into a deep sleep.

Gaz walked into the next room and collapsed on a couch, his brother would be okay, he would be scarred from the burns, but his face was already scarred from something else. If anything they looked now more alike than before. He turned to see the doctor sit down beside him "He will be okay, the bullet entered his left lung and exited through his back clean, I managed to re-inflate and save most of the lung" Gaz nodded "I just wish we could have talked more". She placed a hand on his shoulder "I'm sorry, he will be able to talk tomorrow." He turned to face her "Thank you…for everything" She smiled her face creased with exhaustion "Your welcome". "You need some sleep, Ill go watch him". He went to stand up but she stopped him "Stay, please". Gaz sat back down "all right" She placed her head on his chest.

Gaz watched her fall asleep, her breathing slowed to an even pace. He was tired and closed his eyes, knowing he would soon be haunted by the ghosts of his past.

**Authors Note - Sorry LionTalon, I just went with my gut. Hope it didn't turn out to bad. Next chapter will be much longer and have way more dialogue. As always reviews are welcome.**

**Thanks for reading - Anticleides**


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